


• 𝕊𝕋𝕆ℂ𝕂ℍ𝕆𝕃𝕄 • 𝕊𝕐ℕ𝔻ℝ𝕆𝕄𝔼 •

by youmeatchavs



Category: All Time Low (Band), Bring Me The Horizon, Paramore, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, You Me At Six
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arrest, Courtroom, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Kinks, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, Legal Consequences, Manipulation, Multi, Physical Abuse, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeatchavs/pseuds/youmeatchavs
Summary: "But, I love him.""Sweetheart, he doesn't love you back."
Relationships: Dan Flint/Josh Franceschi/Oliver Sykes, Hinted Dan Flint/Oliver Sykes, Hinted Matt Barnes/Max Helyer, Hinted Matt Kean/Mat Nicholls, Hinted Unrequited Josh Franceschi/Oliver Sykes, Josh Franceschi/Lover You Have To Guess
Kudos: 3





	1. Court

**Author's Note:**

> [MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE OF ALL KINDS, FORCED KINKS, COURT ACTION, IMPLIED EATING DISORDERS, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE OF ALL KINDS, FORCED KINKS, COURT ACTION, IMPLIED EATING DISORDERS, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME]

"Morning, one and all. There's been no changes with the defendant, so, you are to follow me, and make your way down to the courtroom."

Oliver looked up from his hands, straight up into the beady, almost-black eyes of the usher. Dressed in a dark-coloured suit, his hair was thinned, and greying, and a thick moustache lined his upper lip. Oliver nodded (just once) and turned towards the other witnesses — his friends. _Josh's_ friends.

The six of them followed the stout man, fiddling around with their jackets, or their ties, or making sure their zipper was up. It was just nervous fiddling, of course. They weren't exactly _excited_ to be in court. More... Disturbed.

"Man's shorter than me," Max muttered to the witness to his right, Dan.

Max didn't deal with seriousness well, so he opted for joking around. Anything to lift some of the tension that was pressing down on their joints like concrete squashing the life out of an insect.

It worked, at least, long enough to let the blonde snort at the spiky-haired man; he smiled slightly. Best he could manage.

The witnesses filed into the wooden room, handing their cellphones to the security guard on the double-doors. They were led to a section of mahogany pews, and ordered to take a seat.

Chris gazed around the room, eyes scanning along the jury; looked over to the barristers, sparing the ushers a quick glance; he stopped to stare at the defendant. That fucking bastard.

Oliver followed his line of vision. The tattooed man audibly snarled, when the defendant was escorted into the courtroom, a lazy smirk on his face as he was shoved down to a sitting position. The policeman escorting him elbowed his ribs, as if to scold him for not keeping the unbothered mask up — the one they'd agreed on.

The only thing that stopped him from pouncing at the cunt was the warning hand Dan placed on his thigh.

"Don't. You'll make it worse for Josh."

Oliver huffed, but slumped in his seat, eyes daggers directed towards the defendant.

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow, directing his focus towards Lee. The one who called the police on him. The friend, who betrayed him.

Lee shuddered, shrinking in on himself, and hiding slightly behind Matt. Matt shushed him gently, only partly-aware of the defendant's cold eyes burning holes into him.

"Silence!" one the security guards snapped, causing the group of witnesses to jump in shock.

"All rise," the clerk spoke, deep voice monotone and clear.

Everyone rose to their feet, arms either hanging limply by their sides, or tucked behind them in an attempt to seem professional. The judge himself sauntered into the room, funnily-short too, actually.

"The Crown Court is now in session. You may be seated," the clerk called out.

Everyone sat down, patiently waiting for the judge's word.

"Thank you, for your assistance, Mr. Frank Iero," Judge Victor Fuentes said to the clerk, before turning his attention to the barristers before him. "Esteemed peoples of the court, we are gathered here today to review a case of domestic violence, the victim being a young man named Joshua Franceschi. Information about both alleged victim and the accused shall be given, and evidence shall be provided by both attorneys. The jury will decide the defendant's fate. Are both parties ready to proceed?"

His voice (though rather high-pitched) held power and dignity, chin pointed high with pride.

"Yes, Your Honour," both parties agreed, sorting through their piles of notes and names.

Judge Fuentes faced ahead of him, overlooking the barristers. His stare gave no indication to his emotions, but the defendant still stared back, remaining eye contact as he stood.

"The defendant is being charged with domestic violence, abuse, and statutory rape, reported on the 5th of May, by a witness named Lee Malia. How do you wish to plead?"

"Not guilty," the defendant answered, quick but bored-seeming in his response.

"You may be seated. All witnesses to leave the room."

His words were followed by a string of eight people exiting the room, heads down. He turned his mocha eyes to the barristers, expectant. Frank, seeming to sense where Judge Fuentes was looking, spoke up.

"Will the attorneys please introduce themselves, and make their opening statements?"

The defence attorney stood, all long-haired and short, straightening out his jacket.

"Mister Kellin Bostwick, Your Honour. I will be representing the defendant."

Frank nodded, waiting for Kellin to reseat and the other to stand.

"Mister Alexander Gaskarth, Your Honour. I shall be representing the victim, and the law, today."

"Proceed to make your opening statement, Mr. Bostwick."

"Your Honour, the man before you has shown unconditional love and support to his boyfriend, which I have videos, witnesses and photographic evidence to prove. We wait for the DNA samples to show useful information, yet I am certain my client is not a criminal — but, a victim of false accusations, instead. Today, I have bought evidence, including the lack of statement to confirm alleged events from the victim himself, to this court, to prove this man as innocent."

The defendant looked pleased with himself, more-so than his defence.

"Take a seat, Mr. Bostwick. Mr. Gaskarth, please provide your opening statement."

Alex stood up, straightening his tie.

"Your Honour, I have photographic evidence to prove this man a cold-hearted abuser, incapable of love. Pictures taken by paramedics of bruises left on Mr. Franceschi's neck, arms, thighs, face and back, matching the hand print of the defendant. I have bought with me six witnesses to provide multiple recounts of abuse from the defendant, directed towards the victim, and the victim's friends. As well as, a professional psychologist to provide in-depth explanations. I am certain the semen found in Mr. Franceschi will match the defendant, and I am determined to avenge this young man, a victim of Mr. Bostwick's client's abuse."

Frank nodded to himself again.

"May the prosecution bring forth a witness?" he asked.

"Indeed, I may. Mister Oliver Sykes, friend of the victim."

The usher left his pew, making his way out into the hall, to bring the first witness back into the court room.

He came back in, with Oliver trailing behind him. Oliver moved to the witness stand, taking a seat as he tried to calm himself. Nerves made it seem like he was lying, but the piercing eyes of the defendant unnerved him.

"Mr. Sykes," the usher began. "Copy me. Raise you right palm, and repeat the words: 'I swear that the evidence I am about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth'."

Oliver raised his right palm, and recited the words.

"Mr. Sykes. According to Mr. Gaskarth, you can recount an event of abuse?" Kellin questioned, shifting through his notes.

"I can, Sir — Your Honour."

"If that is indeed factual, why did you not think to report the behaviour before today?" the defence pressed.

"I didn't really think much of it, at the time. He said it was a joke. I kind of just believed him, I guess," Oliver admitted, shameful.

"Are you implying some joke is 'verbal abuse'. Mr. Sykes?" Kellin accused.

"It was not a joke. I realise that now."

"Your Honour, may my client recount his memory of the joke-disguised abuse?" Alex asked quickly, before Kellin could turn Oliver into the bad one.

"Please do, Mr. Sykes. Any evidence is crucial for avenging your friend."

"Thank you, Your Honour," Oliver breathed, running a heavily-tattooed hand through his curly hair. "You see, I'd personally say that making remarks about things you know make your lover insecure is not a joke."

"Care to elaborate?" Kellin raised an eyebrow.

"Love to."


	2. Take A Joke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE OF ALL KINDS, FORCED KINKS, COURT ACTION, IMPLIED EATING DISORDERS, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME]

"It was the 9th of February, I believe. Josh is my friend, and I introduced him to..." Oliver guiltily glanced at the defendant.

He was the reason Josh got hurt. If he hadn't of meddled in Josh's love life...

"Josh and his boyfriend came to my flat, with a crate of beer. Josh's always struggled with alcoholism, see, so I offered to go buy him some Fanta, or Coke or some other fizzy pop, y'know?"

☽☽☽

Oliver sat up to attention, in bed, startled by the pounding at his apartment door. His roommate, Mat, was out of town, visiting his friend, Matt. So, it couldn't've been one of those times he forgot his key. Frequent occurrence, one might guess.

"Bro, the fuck you want? It's like eight-somet PM, you bloody, inconsiderate cunt," he grumbled, brunette hair a mop of tangled curls upon his head.

He always was rather moody in the morning, especially early hours.

He kicked the covers off him, sluggishly trudging towards the door — where the pummelling was getting harder, and definitely louder.

"Alright, alright! I heard ya, mate!" the tattooed man huffed, exasperated by being awoken so fucking early for no reason.

He yanked the door opening, yawning, and looked at the disrupters of his beauty sleep. Oh. Josh. And, his boyfriend.

Josh was standing back, half concealed by his boyfriend's broad shoulders, a small, shy smile on his face. He was dressed in one of his usual flannels — grey, black and white, Oliver noticed — a pair of fingerless gloves, and jeans so tight that they left very little to the imagination. Not like the older man didn't have the imagination. But.

"Sorry, Liv. I told him you'd be asleep. But, you know how stubborn J-"

His boyfriend gripped Josh's upper arm, hissing something in his ear that made fear flash across the lanky boy's face. Just for a moment. In his drowsiness, Oliver missed it.

"Y-You know how stubborn... D-D-Daddy... Is..." Josh's voice grew quieter, cheeks blossoming a lovely shade of pink in embarrassment.

Oliver snorted.

"Didn't know you had a Daddy-kink," he mused, pinching the younger's red cheek teasingly.

He stepped out of the way, holding open the door for the two, and biting his lip at the messy state of his apartment.

Josh blushed more, pressing his hand to his cheek in awe.

"I-I don-"

"Our sex life and kinks are none of your concern, Oliver. But, I brought Joshua here, because he was pestering me (rather annoyingly) about getting along better with his friends. Think the idiot forgot that we're dating because of you. So, up for a Fifa day? We bought beer."

Annoying. Idiot. Josh frowned, casting his eyes to his feet sadly. His boyfriend held up the pack of beer, using Oliver's fatigued, distracted state to irritate a healing bruise on Josh's back. If he remembered correctly, from the table. Maybe the flogger, he didn't know: he was high that night.

Josh flinched, and looked up nervously, thinking his friend had noticed. But, Oliver just happily agreed to a day of playing games on his Playstation.

"Wait, J, you don't drink much, right? I'll go get you something then. Just don't fuck on the settee, when I'm gone. Mat will beat my arse, if you stain it with your cum."

The younger of the three whined loudly, throwing his controller at the heavily-tattooed man. This tantrum caused the game to go haywire,Josh's characters going erratic as buttons hit off every hard surface they could. Oliver just laughed at him, wrapped his arm around his neck in a playful chokehold. His knuckles rubbed against Josh's soft, straightened hair, causing him to pout for all but a second, before having an outburst of child-like giggles.

A cough ruined the playfulness in the atmosphere.

"I'll go buy Joshua something to drink. Be a good boy, whilst I'm gone, Baby."

Josh nodded shyly.

"I will, Daddy," he whispered.

"I know."

And, with that, Josh's killjoy boyfriend left the apartment.

"I'll make some sandwiches. Peanut butter and grape jam, right?" Oliver offered, standing up.

Josh nodded gratefully, a smile on his lips.

"Thanks, Dickhead."

"We all know you have the culinary skills of a fucking toad," he teased.

Josh gasped, pretending to be offended.

"Are you saying I eat flies, Syko?"

"You certainly attract them."

"You fucker. Take that back!"

"I actually will. You smell pleasantly of cinnamon, and Christmas."

The younger laughed, maya eyes sparkling with happiness he hadn't felt in a while.

"My shampoo. Its cinnamon scented. Dunno where you got the Christmas part from, Weirdo," Josh retorted, watching his friend move around the kitchen with the grace of a pirate, and giggling every time he tripped over his own feet.

"One sandwich for the kinky cunt I call my best friend," Oliver laughed, setting a plate down on Josh's thighs.

He stuck his tongue out in return, tearing a piece off and nibbling on it. The friends chattered excitedly together, about anything, really - new songs, new movies, new bands to fanboy over, anything.

Shame that Josh's boyfriend had to come back and ruin it all.

"Oh, the fat bitch is eating again," he joked, as soon as he walked back in, laughing like it was the funniest joke in the world. 'Joke'.

Josh frowned at the sandwich on his plate, scared and confused: this was his first meal in thirty-seven hours, and it would likely get him a beating. Fuck.

"That's not fucking funny, you cunt," Oliver snarled, hating the dejected look on his friend's face. "Josh isn't fat — never has been."

Josh's boyfriend rolled his eyes.

"Relax. Josh knows it's a joke. If not, well, he'd better learn to take a joke, hadn't he?"

Josh looked down at himself critically, not liking the way his thighs touched, or the fact his tummy wasn't as flat as Oliver's. Guess that's another two days without food.

☽☽☽

"You mean to tell me that, not only did my client make a joke, but he was engaging in something most likely to be a consensual kink?" Kellin asked, staring at Oliver incredulously.

"Josh has always been insecure about his weight. Used to get called fat a lot, at school. Or, kids would make oinking noises, whenever he would walk by. Even though, he wasn't even fat (not like that would even excuse their behaviour). His boyfriend knows about his insecurities, and still chooses to poke at them," Oliver corrected, refusing to let the defence attorney break him down.

"Yet, you sound like you're accusing him of forcing Mr. Franceschi to engage in a... Daddy-kink?"

"Josh didn't seem like he enjoyed it."

"Thank you, Oliver, for sharing," Judge Fuentes interrupted, before Kellin could press further.

"Mr. Gaskarth, who is your second witness?" Frank questioned, sparing a glance at the curly-haired man sat in the witness stand.

"Mister Christopher Miller, Your Honour. His recount actually follows on from Mr. Sykes'," Alex told them, smiling softly at Oliver.

"Very well."

The usher lead Oliver back to the rest of his friends, bringing a timid-looking Chris with him.

Chris tucked his chest-length hair behind his ear, taking the seat Oliver just vacated.

"Mr. Miller, copy me," the usher instructed. "Raise you right palm, and repeat the words: 'I swear that the evidence I am about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth'."

Raising his palm, Chris repeated the mantra, pledging his honesty.

Kellin eyed him up, hoping his timidness meant he would be easier to break.

"Mr. Gaskarth claims your recount of abuse follows on from Mr. Sykes'," he began, almost smirking in a sly manner. "Care to inform us how so?"

"I fully intend to avenge my friend, Your Honour. His boyfriend has laid his hand on Josh, quite a few times, according to the evidence. And, the one time I caught him..."


End file.
